


i love you (but no fucking way)

by liberate



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU - University, Character Study, Drabble Collection, M/M, canonverse, sailing my own crackship, the chapters don't belong together, weirdly poetic, why did i write this? who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberate/pseuds/liberate
Summary: maybe that's what molly is – his reminder to breathe.(a collection)[latest:hold me in this wild, wild world- post episode seven]





	1. back to the night when we met

**Author's Note:**

> when people call me out for only falling in love with edgy characters, they are right. just isaac doing the thing where he ships his two favorites simply because no one stopped him. might add more chapters if i feel like it! 
> 
> (i might change the title because it's utter shit, but the song is very good.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**i**.

 

 

beauty is the least of caleb's concerns.

 

maybe it's because he has different problems, other problems, like if he is going to live through the next twenty-four hours, through the next merciless day in a world that hates them, him and nott. maybe it's because he simply doesn't have an eye for it, swirling colors, carefully placed words of a poem, dancers moving to the rythm of a music only they can hear – he _understands_ , watches them, traces the words with the tip of his fingers, but it never resonates with him the way magic does.

 

(but after all, he _hates_ magic, doesn't he, and he isn't supposed to hate beauty)

 

none of that suddenly changes once mollymauk enters the tavern – caleb has more eyes for the people on the next table than for the tiefling handing out flyers, and all in all, it doesn't make much of a good story, how they hardly exchange a glance, there is no flirting, no meaningful conversations, no cards. it's just two not-so-heroic heroes in a dirty tavern.

 

\- but weirdly enough, caleb finds his gaze lingering on molly a second too long before they leave.

( _molly is used to people looking after him. caleb is not used to having his eye drawn to something except books and gold pieces._ )

 

 

**ii.**

 

 

mollymauk isn't all about beauty.

 

he's about striking when least expected, about intelligence and creativity, about tracking and about the desperation clinging deep inside his bones, desperation so familiar to him that most days, he feels like he was born with it. people look at him without looking him into the eyes, whisper _exotic_ behind his back like it's a compliment, whisper _beautiful_ like it means anything coming from their mouths. he reads their futures like he cares and he plays the part, plays it so _damn_ well – flipping the edges of his knifes into the air with the hint of a smile on his face, spins them as if he's made to do this, to impress the people on the street, not to bury the daggers in flesh.

 

(his sweet smile is almost as believable as his real one, all edges and the hint of danger that he wears like a second skin)

 

caleb is the opposite of beautiful, and at first, ignoring him feels like the easiest thing in the world, because his companions talk more and play more and laugh more, while caleb is just _there_. existing, a sentiment that feels so utterly unfamiliar to molly, because in his whole life, he was always used to being a center of attention. caleb is the eye of a hurricane, so silent that it molly isn't sure whether to reach out to him or not, but ultimately, they don't even know each other.

 

\- but weirdly enough, later while molly spins his knifes in the procession, his eyes find caleb in the crowd, as if to ensure that he is looking at him. as if to ensure that he is impressed by him.

( _caleb is used to people looking for him, but not in the good way. molly is not used to the desire to impress anyone except himself._ )

 

 

**iii.**

 

 

molly looks even better when he fights, like it's a giant dance, like it's _so_ easy to him -

and caleb feels all the more clumsy, with his ineffective magic, hiding somewhere in the crowd while molly fights on the frontline. it still doesn't make half of a good story, but for a split-second caleb thinks _i'd like to watch him more_ , neutral, objectively, like mollymauk is another one of his treasured magic books, but it makes him calmer, because it's something to hold onto.

 

caleb hasn't allowed himself to hold onto anything for a long time.

(leaning onto something is a dangerous thing)

 

 

**iv.**

 

 

both of them hate the way it turns out – because of course molly has better things to do than to get held captive by _anyone_ , hates it when people don't listen to reason, and of course none of what happend is their fault, but he fears it will only get worse, and he should regret it more, regret winding up with the weird group of people that he somehow has gotten himself involved with, but somehow he doesn't half as much as he thought. it's not because of the wizard, because molly doesn't care about him.

 

(yet)

 

caleb is good at running along, mostly because he has nothing to loose – (yet) but a very small part of him likes the idea of helping mollymauk, likes the idea of saving him, of being useful to him. it's just as much about molly as it is about the others, he tells himself, venturing the dark streets of the town with his companions, and the word taste strange in his mouth. almost like _hope_. almost like the beginning of something bigger, something better, something that reaches beyond their individual fates.

 

it almost feels like the beginning of an adventure.

 

 

**v.**

 

 

„ _my friends call me molly.“_

„but are we friends?“

 

( _depends on what else you'd like us to be_ )

 

„ _we have plenty of time left to become friends._ “

„that sounds reasonable.“

 

 

 

 

 


	2. when the city gets silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the wine to leave it in the bottle, right?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (the university au no one asked for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) hey yana it's your birthday (i really hope it is) and remember when you requested that on twitter? well i wrote it! yay me. happy hopeful birthday!
> 
> b) i'm a sucker for modernverse, so have mercy with me? i also really ship caleb and fjord at this point and am considering to just throw eveything into this one story. what even. 
> 
> c) thank you so much for the _amazing_ reception for the last chapter? i was pretty blown away by so many kudos and everyone who commented was so kind, i got really emotional? thanks guys. also, this was for a twitter challenge with a prompt list that had different types of "the way you said i love you".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _the way you said i love you_ : a taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“apparently it's just you and me now.”

 

the day has died, somewhere along the lines of this blurry night, crouched in a corner somewhere, his last breath a rattled, harsh hint of the sun coiled up in his lungs. what is left is a mess of broken bottles on the street, shouts of students in the distance, and them, like the day left the night one final present before it vanished from the scene. molly sinks down with a sigh, folds his legs in a complicated motion, cross-legged on the dirty stairs that lead up to the main campus. he doesn't seem to mind the dirt and caleb figures he has seen worse when he sits next to molly.

 

maybe it's just that every place looks a _bit_ better with molly around, a little more fashionable, a little more fascinating, even dirty stairs at a university caleb knows at heart by now. and it's not like caleb plans to look at the stairs – it's not like he is sober enough to avert his eyes from molly.

 

“you, me and this bottle of wine”, caleb replies. molly smirks, gesturing vaguely in his direction with the yet unopened bottle of cheap, store-bought wine, because at some point of this night, they had standards, but standards are quick to drown in neonlights and plastic cups in awful shades of red.

“i could think of a worse night”, the smirk doesn't drop from molly's lips. caleb wonders if it is supposed to make him uncomfortable. he also wonders if his sober self would feel uncomfortable, but for once he feels _almost_ like he's in the right place, like he's supposed to be here, and the feeling is too good to give up.

so instead he says “me too” and when molly offers him the bottle, he takes it, gulps down a few mouthful, pleasantely drunk enough already to ignore the sour taste the wine leaves in his mouth.

 

“i'll regret this tomorrow”, he murmurs, passing the bottle back to molly.

molly only chuckles. “life is too short to not to the things you'd like to do.”

“if you mean – getting drunk on bad wine after a university party, absolutely. that's what i always wanted, and nott absolutely isn't going to hate me for leaving her alone.”

“she can handle herself”, molly sits the bottle down next to him, absently fiddling with one of the many rings on his fingers. “jester and her are basically inseperable these days.”

he is right, and caleb knows better than to worry about nott, but it's a habit he can't quite get rid of, because she's his best friend and some days the worrying is still there, like an annoying nagging in his brain. he pushes it aside and watches molly instead, out of the corner of his eyes.

 

of course molly notices, and the thoughtful look vanishes from his eyes, replaced by amusement.

 

“what are you staring at?”

“you”, says the alcohol, and the rationality in caleb's brain screams.

molly chuckles. “i figured that much, smartass.”

caleb chooses to ignore the insult. “i thought you were used to people staring at you.”

“yeah, sure, but not _you_ ”, he rolls his eyes, as if caleb should have thought of that himself, but in reality caleb's brain feels like it's overheating, sending weird thoughts down his bloodstream, the overwhelming desire to shift his weight a little closer to molly, and he can't even _think_ straight.

 

“what are you going to do next, declare your undying love to me?”, molly jokes.

there's a lump in caleb's chest that he can't quite swallow while he watches molly take another gulp out of the bottle, dim lamplight catching in the polished metal of his rings, the dramatic handgesture he makes.

“let me help you out on that one”, he declares, in his best theater voice, the one that sometimes sends a shiver down caleb's spine, but right now he feels too hollow for that, “i, mollymauk tealeaf, hereby declare my undying love for you, to relieve you of the burden that are your feelings.”

 

a grin creeps up on his face, while he grabs his heart just as dramatically. caleb wants to laugh, but he can't quite bring himself to. molly merely raises an eyebrow. “too much?”, he's still grinning and it's such an honest grin that caleb could get drunk on it and wouldn't regret it. he regrets everything else, though.

“a bit?”, he offers, weakly. “how did you even get from me looking at you to _that_?”

“my mind works in mysterious ways, my dearest caleb”, molly winks at him and caleb feels his stomach drop, because he needs his bed and a glas of water or maybe another one of those weird green shots and he needs to carve the feeling out of his bones that tells him that he will die any second if he doesn't kiss molly here and now. “yeah, i might have realized that”, caleb mumbles.

 

he mixes his blood with even more wine, and this time he catches molly staring at him.

“what are you staring at?”, he asks, halfway joking. “you”, molly replies, dead-serious.

“i'm too drunk for this”, caleb admits. it's the middle of the night, but the air is still warm and in the dim light, molly looks more like a drawing and less like a living being. _he's too beautiful for you_ , caleb reminds himself. it's easy, because it's the truest thing he ever reminds himself of.

“don't look so sad”, molly catches him completely of guard, because sometimes caleb just forgets that he exists, drifts down into the corners of his mind, covers himself in the isolation where no one can reach him. except mollymauk makes it look easy, hand on caleb's shoulder, bottle in the other hand.

 

the night skips a beat when molly kisses him.

 

it's a bit weird, because caleb hasn't really kissed anyone in what feels like ages, but molly is definetly kissing him, and his lips taste a bit like sour wine but caleb kisses him back like it's the natural thing in this alcohol-soaked night. molly whispers “don't look so sad” into the kiss again, the slightly colder rings brushing against caleb's cheek, and it's a moment of silence in the crescendo of symphonies that mollymauk is.

 

“i'm never sad when i'm with you”, caleb whispers back, their foreheads touching, the night surrounding them like the briefest pause of the lives they lead – and it has to continue, because every pause is over eventually, and tomorrow they might never talk about this again, but right now, it's theirs.

 

 _i'm never sad when i'm with you_ , caleb says,

and molly almost believes it.

 

 

 

 


	3. hold me in this wild, wild world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _there's time for that later._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (canon; after episode seven)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah this happened and i might have screamed, because? this was my crackship after episode one? and now people are actually _shipping and writing this_? i am in heaven. (will i ever write something decent for those two that i have not written in thirty minutes? probably not, but at least i am writing.)
> 
> also, i have [tumblr](http://be-the-inquisition.tumblr.com/), come and chat with me! or if you want to request something, i'm open for prompts, if i like them? anything, basically.

 

 

 

 

 

 **i**.

 

 

_there's time for that later._

 

caleb understands the words, and yet he can't quite seem to grasp them. there's confusion, buried beneath the layers of old wounds, but he can't concentrate on any of feelings, mashed together like swirls of color, back then when his mother used to draw and he would watch her, dipping the paint into the water, leaving traces of red and blue and yellow. when he closes his eyes, the world turns red. ignites. the heat of the magic has long vanished into the air, and yet he can still feel it, tricking down his fingers, his spine.

 

he grabs nott's hand and tries to breathe. he's good at that.

 

 

 **ii**.

 

 

molly finds him after the festivities have died down and their group has spread out, drinking, dancing, nott is off with jester, after he ensured her a million times that he's _fine_. of course it's a lie, but he won't get better by denying nott her fun – and he won't get better by anything she can do, it's just him and his ragged breath and the flames, the screams of the priest within his ears and the _other_ screams -

 

“hey.”

 

molly snaps him out of it, and caleb realizes with a start that he had forgotten to breathe. now the chilly night air fills his lungs again and molly sits next to him in the gras, the lights of the town behind them. caleb figures he should be afraid of wandering around here alone – after all they fought during the last hours, but when he brushes his mind across the place where the fear should be, he's left with nothing but a hollow feeling.

(the fear will come back, just like the memories always do.)

 

“you should be with the others”, caleb murmurs, avoiding his gaze. his hands are turning the book he had been studying until it got too dark absently. he could have used dancing lights for light, but when he feels like this, magic becomes distant. the whole world does, becomes muted, like someone tuned down all the colors, made everything less vibrant, and caleb doesn't quite feel like himself anymore.

 

“i was worried about you”, molly is looking at him, and caleb can feel the look, because he has seen it so many times, the _pity_. except when he gives in and does look at molly, there's no pity in his eternal eyes. it's hard to tell – spending time around molly should have made caleb better at reading his expressions, but in reality, it made it harder, because nothing caleb learns about molly really makes _sense_.

 

(because why would someone like molly _care_ )

 

“i'm fine.”

 

molly sighs, wearily. “you didn't look fine back then. i _know_ this look, caleb.”

“but you don't know anything about me.” it's not meant to come out with an edge, but somehow, it does – a dull anger hidden in the words that cut through the night air. but molly doesn't even try to dodge the hit.

“that won't stop me from caring, you know.”

 

caleb rubs his eyes in a desperate atempt to get the tiredness out of his mind, but his eyes still burn and his limps still feel stiff and the wound the arrow his left still hurts. and he still feels like a stranger in his own body.

 

“i don't want to talk about it.”

molly nods. “do you want me to leave?”

 

 _caleb wants_ – caleb doesn't know what he wants, not truly, he wants to sleep and to feel awake when he wakes up, he wants to put out the flames that flicker behind his eyes, he wants to move his fingers and feel his own weight like it's a right thing, not like this is a dream or maybe a nightmare. he goes through the list in his mind – and figures he wants a lot of things, wants to be alone but the fear creeps back into his mind, slower than before, slower than the hyenas, circles him.

 

“breathe”, molly says, absentely, and if there was anyoneexcept them present, caleb would not have figured that the tiefling adressed him. molly isn't even looking at him, rips out strands of grass only to twist them between his fingers, intertwining them. it's not an order, merely a reminder that snaps caleb back into reality, the same washed out reality, but the pounding of the approaching fear grows more instant.

“danke”, it comes out as a whisper, and molly flashes him a look, a smile in the half-light, even if a hint of sadness clings to it. “i'll gladly slap you in the face again, even if i hope i don't have to.”

 

it almost makes caleb laugh, and he treasures that _almost_ more than anything else.

 

 

 **iii**.

 

 

molly wraps an arm around him when they make their way back to the inn – and maybe it's because caleb is still swaying a little too much, maybe it's because of the desperation that he can't quite leave behind – caleb figures he couldn't really care less, because he leans against molly and blinks the memories away, and it gets easier, as if molly's soft words and stories and the way he tells absurd legends about the constellations looming in the night sky above them make the screams inside caleb's head a little quieter and the colors a bit more vibrant again. (the numbness doesn't fade completely and caleb mostly nods, replies in one word or not at all, but everytime molly looks at him from the side, as if he wants to check if caleb is alright, he remembers to breathe again. maybe that's what molly is – his reminder to breathe.)

 

 

 **iv**.

 

 

“you can always come to me, caleb.”

 

it's a promise – just like _there's time for that later_. and caleb's first instinct is to shrug it off, because it will not happen again (except it will) and he hardly knows molly (except he'd like to) and he can't even say it back, because he's not as helpful and charming and colorful as molly -

 

“you too”, the words crack somewhere in his throat, but molly smiles anyway, leans forward and lets his lips brush against caleb's forehead again, in a familiar, caring gesture.

 

( _there's always time for more, later -_ )

 

 

 **v**.

 

 

the world behind his eyes might be burning, but caleb figures – as long as he keep breathing, there's always room for second chances. (even if he sometimes need someone to remind him of that)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
